by Jane Knox
My deceased sister came to me as a dream figure in early March and warned me to give up dancing because of the Covid-19 threat. I trusted this dream figure and gave up going to dance classes. Of course, soon after, they were canceled anyway.
However, at first, I was oblivious of the need to quarantine. I had gone twice to an osteopath for a vitamin drip to strengthen my immune system. I also daily visited my favorite health food and vitamin store with its organic hot bar. The community pool had not closed yet and I was off to a water exercise class. (All that chlorine in the water would surely protect me!) I heard the governor might close down hair salons, so I popped in and was able to get a cut and color.
Then, my brother arrived home from Georgia. But, when I met him in the driveway he held up his hand and said, “Stop don’t come any closer!” It was a bit of a shock when he told me he didn’t want me to visit him at home.
This was a second warning. My experience of awakening to the pandemic reminds me of a Grimm’s Fairy Tale about warnings, “The Twelve Dancing Princesses.”
Once upon a time, there were twelve princesses who would slip through a secret portal to go dancing, and every night they would wear out their shoes. Determined to put an end to the princesses’ worn-out shoes, their father, the King, offered a hugereward to any male who could discover their secret. Many tried, failed, and were killed. ]
Concerns about the virus in my community were spreading so fast, the rest of the family in my house had already quarantined. I hadn’t noticed! To be honest, the thought of staying home was frightening to me. Stay home? Unthinkable!
One day a retired soldier showed up to take on the challenge. An old woman had given him a cloak that made him invisible and warned him not to drink the wine he would be given to put him to sleep. When he arrived to spy on the princesses, the youngest princess said, “I have a scary feeling that we are in danger.” The eldest princess trivialized her concern.
The princesses crossed the secret portal and down a staircase. The youngest princess, the last to descend to the other realm, called out, “Someone is stepping on my dress. I’m scared!” “Don’t be silly,” responded the oldest princess.
The first hospitalization in my town was reported. The patient was from Ridgefield Crossings, a nursing home. There were only a handful of reported virus cases in town at the time.
The soldier in the invisible cape broke off branches from several trees to take as evidence to the King. The youngest princess heard the sound of a branch breaking and was frightened. But, the eldest princess told her, “They are only joyful sounds.” The youngest princess heard the sound of two more branches breaking. “Something is wrong, we should go back.” But the elder sister insisted she was just being ridiculous.
We had our first death in Ridgefield caused by the virus. It was reported on the Ridgefield Patch site, where I read it.
The invisible soldier watched as twelve princes in rowboats met each of the princesses at a lake in order to row them to a castle. He climbed in the youngest princess’s boat. The prince who rowed remarked, “How heavy the boat is!” Once at the castle, the princesses danced and danced. Every time the youngest princess went to take a sip of wine, the invisible soldier drank it instead. It was gone before she got a sip. She expressed her apprehension to her eldest sister who once again ignored her.
There was a sudden shift in my perception of danger when I began to read reports of what having the virus was like. I could resonate with the misery of the illness. A few years ago, I had gone to Cuzco, Peru, high in the Andes where I spent a grueling night having difficulty breathing. I was finally able to get oxygen in the hotel. But, I have a body memory of that experience of not being able to breathe, and it was horrible. I would never choose to experience something like that night again. When I heard how this coronavirus impacts the lungs, I could understand, viscerally, the risk I was taking.
It dawned on me that I was at a high risk of dying if I got the disease. I have issues that put me at high risk. It occurred to me that I have a responsibility to others as well. If I contract the virus, I could infect anyone I come in contact with.
The ex-soldier met with The King. He exposed the secret of how the princesses had been wearing out their shoes. The ex-soldier told The King how they had danced all night. The King, put an end to their nightly visits to the enchanted realm. The princesses suffered a great loss. The eldest daughter was forced to marry the ex-soldier that very day.
Unlike the sisters of the youngest princess, I finally heeded the warnings. If they had paid attention to their youngest sister’s concern and turned back, the twelve princesses might still be dancing.
At first, the virus, like the controlling King, threatened to stop my dancing by forcing me to give up my classes and stay home. But, thanks to the magic of Zoom, I have created, in my home, an enchanted realm where I am still dancing–and pursuing
many of my passions from my own living room.
For instance, Elaine Patrone is offering Miracle Ball classes online. My ballet and tap teacher is teaching her online classes at the regular time. My Feldenkrais teacher is offering two online classes a week. A local belly dance teacher has online classes. And, I even encouraged my belly dance teacher to teach classes on Zoom!
A friend called me the peripatetic ageless goddess, because, through the magical power of Zoom, I am still traveling and meeting people around the world. I have experienced Feldenkrais classes originated in Wilton, Connecticut, California, and Toronto. And, I shimmied and rotated my hips with belly dance groups from Norwalk, to Portland, Maine, and Danbury, Connecticut. I imagine this is only the beginning of my unfolding adventures. A whole new and wonderful realm has opened up for me. And there is no King or virus that can keep me from dancing.
This is reprinted from Jane Knox’s blog The Ageless Goddess.